


The Graveyard

by Yatorihell



Series: In The Darkness [46]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, ノラガミ | Noragami
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-31 19:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatorihell/pseuds/Yatorihell
Summary: What awaits Yato and Suzuha in the graveyard?Thank you Ina (leopah) for beta-ing me <3Happy birthday Anna (shadownightes.tumblr.com)!





	The Graveyard

**Author's Note:**

> Still on low-key hiatus but bon appetit :3c

Yato hit the ground with a loud grunt.

Grass and silence greeted him. An expanse of blackness hung above him before he rolled onto his hands and knees. Somewhere nearby he could hear an equally undignified groan from Suzuha, who had landed somewhere on his right.

Yato rose to his feet, wincing slightly as he felt the soreness of his fall, though thankfully he didn’t seem to be injured. He looked around.

The maze that had been seconds away from sealing them in the same fate as Manabu was gone.

Instead, a ruined graveyard littered with broken headstones stood in a sparse landscape. Any remaining family of those under their feet were as long dead as the flowers that had been laid to remember them.

Several gravestones were marked by stone obelisks and angels which passed silent judgement on the two boys as they looked around, scuffled footsteps kicking stone and grass as they paced cautiously, wondering where they were.

Yato noticed the mausoleums and catacombs standing tall around the empty space they were in. At the centrepiece of the crypts was a statue, remarkably intact despite the grime which coated its folded wings.

He circled around. It would have been an angel if not for its skeletal face. Though, on closer inspection, it seemed that a less talented craftsman had transformed its once beautiful face into something more grotesque, turning the perfectly sculpted marble into a jarring visage of a harbinger of death.

The goblet caught Yato’s eye. It had landed a short distance away at the foot of a grave, shining with a much dimmer light now that its task had been fulfilled.

_A Portkey…_

“Where are we?”

Yato flinched, not hearing Suzuha come up by his side. They both looked around for some sort of indication of the maze’s tall shrubbery, or the small stadium of spectators, even the school. Nothing.

Yato’s voice came out quieter than he expected. “I don’t know.”

Just then – out of the corner of his eye beyond the edge of a catacomb – something moved.

Yato hit Suzuha’s arm, not taking his eyes off the movement as what looked like a short figure approached. He heard Suzuha’s soft curse and the tell-tale shift of clothing telling him that Suzuha was reaching for his wand.

Yato was about to do the same – until the cloaked figure jerked his hand upwards.

The air was stolen from Yato’s lungs with the action, an invisible noose pulled tight around his neck that had him gasping silently for breath and his mind speared by a thousand needles.

Yato’s legs gave out, crumpling to the ground with his hands clutching his head as static filled his mind, blinding his senses and making him cry out.

The figure – no bigger than himself – continued walking towards the pair, leaving Suzuha to stand protectively in front of his fellow champion.

“Who are you?” Suzuha shouted as the hooded figured approached. He held his wand tightly in his grip, directing it at the figure. He didn’t dare to tear his eyes away.

Its hand dropped, and Yato found himself able to breathe once more with ragged pants.

The figure didn’t answer Suzuha’s question. Instead, its hand rose once more, this time to push back its hood, revealing dark eyes beneath a parting of light hair.

Suzuha couldn’t help but notice the smile on the boy’s lips as he directed his attention behind him. At Yato.

As if on cue, Yato groaned, his hands still clutching his head that was pressed to the ground. _Why does it hurt so much?_

His wand in his pocket dug into his leg painfully, a poignant reminder of his inability to wield it with the searing pain in his head. He was left to the mercy of a psychological torture that felt sickeningly familiar, one that not even Suzuha’s protection could stop.

Suzuha wavered at Yato’s pained noise. He turned his head to look at Yato. Words didn’t have time to pass his lips before a wand slipped out of the intruder’s sleeve and comfortably into his hand.

Neither saw him raise the wand. The only thing that sent a shock through Yato’s system, bringing his head up in a snap of attention, was the two words he uttered.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

Yato’s eyes followed the curse as if in slow motion; unable to think, unable to speak, or even push Suzuha out of the way as he whirled around in blind panic. Too slow.

In one fluid motion, Yato watched the curse slam Suzuha’s chest.

In the split second before his body was flung across the graveyard Yato could see a concoction of emotions: fear, desperation… and agony.

His body became a ragdoll, limp and manipulated. No reaction nor scream came from his mouth when his head connected on a gravestone with a sickening crack. He crumpled in a heap before the tombstone.

Dead.

His vacant eyes stared at the sky, unseeing and devoid of the emotions that had plagued him in the maze into a state that only cleared moments ago.

Suzuha remained peaceful, undisturbed by Yato’s scream – not that Yato recognised his own broken voice nor felt his limbs move of their own accord. The sound of his own pounding heart drowned out the world, muffling his heavy footfalls before they ceased altogether.

Something intangible and sharp pierced Yato’s stomach, making him stumble and see white-hot stars explode when his vision faltered into momentary darkness. Rather than the solidity of the ground beneath his feet, he felt weightless – floating – until his back pressed against hardness and the grating of metal brought him back to his senses.

Only then did Yato realise he’d been encased in the arms of the fallen angel, its scythe locking against his chest and effectively pinning his arms up, feet grazing the ground as he grasped at the statue to stop his strangulation.

Yato grunted and pushed at the bar. It wouldn’t budge.

Without a word the boy turned from Yato, indifferent of his hostage and victim whose body was yet to turn cold.

He scanned the barren landscape expectantly.

Within a second, rushes of wind and flares of darkness materialised in the shape of people surrounding both figures, each one enshrouded in black robes that nearly blended into the twilight. Their identities were obscured by skeletal masks, but this told Yato one detail – one crucial detail – about who was behind the goblet portkey.

These were the followers of one man. The same people who had attacked the Quidditch World Cup.

Death Eaters.

But where was the Sorcerer?

Silence deafened the graveyard. It seemed that whatever reason Yato was brought here for, there was a need for an audience. And he was about to find out why.

The boy approached Yato, not caring how he struggled when he came merely steps away. He examined Yato’s face in silence.

“Do you know who I am?”

Yato stared at him in response. Even if this boy was the same age as him, Yato didn't recognise him as a fellow student. Not even as someone he would’ve known before Hogwarts.

The boy made a face of theatrical shock, eyes as round as the ‘o’ of his mouth.

“Surely, you would think me famous by now! You of all people should know me. You have seen firsthand what I can do.”

His dramatic expression dropped immediately. He looked Yato dead in the eye. His face was passive, voice evenly toned as if he were discussing a mundane topic rather than revealing his identity.  

“Don’t you recognise an old friend?

Yato scowled, breath low in his throat, trying to think through the dull throb in his temple. _Death Eaters, but no Sorcerer… why isn’t he here?_

Then again, when had anyone seen what he actually looked like? Elusive, cunning, and…

Yato’s face drained of colour. With a nationwide manhunt for the most wanted wizard in the world, who would think to look for someone barely out of school?

The boy’s smile grew wider at Yato’s silent realisation. “Amazing, isn’t it? No one in the Ministry would ever think to look for a child.”

Yato stared at him blankly. Nothing made sense. How could the one of the Most Dangerous Dark Wizards of All Time be someone his age, let alone be able to break into the Triwizard Tournament security and slip past the Minister of Magic himself to bring Yato here?

If this _was_ the Sorcerer, then Yato knew he was in a very dangerous situation: alone and in the middle of nowhere with a clutch of purists.

Now he was even more painfully aware of his wand in his pocket, just out of reach. Even if he could wiggle his arm free without this lunatic noticing, Yato could already feel himself slipping from the iron grasp. His position prevented him from moving without the risk of strangling himself, giving him no choice but to hold himself up.

 _Keep him talking,_ Yato managed to think. If he could just lower his guard, maybe he could escape.

“Are you working with my father?” Yato tried to keep his tone level, but even he could tell his voice had become dry.

The Sorcerer laughed and took a step forward, bowing slightly at the waist.

“If you had stuck around, you would’ve found out,” he took another step forward, voice dropping to an excited whisper. “Shall I show you what you’ve been missing?”

He tapped his temple, and simultaneously, white-hot heat seared through Yato’s head.

If he screamed, Yato didn’t hear it. The thudding in his head grew harder, pulsating and turning into a low noise which was trying to break through an imperceptible bubble that cloaked – no, protected – Yato from whatever was trying to reach him.

The Sorcerer cocked his head to the side. “You can hear it now, can’t you? That noise in your head.”

He was right in front of Yato now, his hand outstretching slowly. “Is it getting louder?”

The Sorcerer closed his eyes and pressed his index finger to the centre of Yato’s forehead.

A bolt of lightning-like shock flashed under Yato’s skin, from the point at where they connected and spreading out in jagged spikes which crawled under and clawed at every crack in Yato’s exhausted body.

Static drowned out the world and Yato’s eyes blew wide open, mouth falling open in a silent scream. Something that had been locked away inside of him was unleashed. Something he didn’t know about had been put there, and now with one touch it had been opened.

Flashes of faces and dark alleys, a vaulted door, Dementors and phantom dogs. And voices. So many voices. But the screams… they were familiar. They were his own.

The sheer force of the noise and repercussions of the single touch washing over him made Yato gasp for air, drowning and incapable of escaping the Sorcerer’s touch no matter how his body screamed.

Yato didn’t know how long it lasted, but when the finger left his skin and his desperate lungs could finally gasp for air in frantic pants, the Sorcerer murmured something that his throbbing head nearly missed.

“We are connected, Yaboku. All of your family.”

The finger ghosted from Yato’s forehead and down the side of his face, barely there until it came to rest under his chin. Slowly, Yato felt his face being tilted upwards. An invisible force made him open his eyes.

Despite his blurred vision, Yato thought he could see the Sorcerer searching his expression pensively, but the drooped corner of his mouth and furrowed eyebrows suggested something more… melancholic.

Whatever emotion he’d shown was replaced by an imperceptible façade.

“Oh, won’t you come home, Yaboku?” he chided softly, finger delicately moving to trace across Yato’s tightened throat. “Your Father misses you so.”

Yato wheezed and, through the clearing haze over his eyes, glared at him. “I’d rather die.”

This prompted a grin from the Sorcerer. “That could easily be arranged.”

The boy gave a dark chuckle and withdrew his hand from Yato’s throat. He tapped his wand lightly against his forefinger. “Do you think anyone would _actually_ miss you?”

Yato heaved a shaky breath. Yukine and Hiyori flashed through his mind, even Bishamon and Kazuma for a fleeting second, at the question.

The Sorcerer gave a contemptive laugh at his response before he drawled,

“Ah, yes, that mudblood girl. How devoted you are to her.” He cocked his head to the side, gauging Yato’s reaction for a split second before adding, “And the half-blood orphan you’ve grown so attached to.”

It had the desired effect. A gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach had Yato swallow thickly. _How did he know Hiyori and Yukine?_

“The boy has a fiery spirit. Such a shame his blood is tainted – a wasted potential. If he were a pure blood, he would’ve made a great wizard. Powerful enough to do more than you ever could, if only he had my guidance.”

He carried on regardless of Yato’s pained silence, set on an edge with every word threatening to push him over.

“He’s a true Slytherin even if he was placed in a weak house. And _smart_.” The Sorcerer tapped his finger to his temple with a knowing smile. “Smart enough to realise who had entered your name into the Goblet of Fire and catch them in the act of bewitching the trophy.”

A sickening grin spread across his face with his next words. “Brave enough to even try and warn you.”

He stopped and threw his arm to gesture behind where Yato was held captive, taking a sudden change in narrative. “He’s here now! Your professor who put your name in the Goblet of Fire and ensured that you would be here on this very night is here now. Won’t you thank him for this happy reunion?”

Yato resisted the urge to try and crane his neck, knowing that it would only hurt his strained muscles and labouring chest. Whoever it was, Yukine already knew. Yato just needed to find him… if he got out alive.

The Sorcerer didn’t seem to care that Yato hadn’t spoken at all during his taunting.

“Speaking of reunion, your Father suggested you save Nora from a watery grave instead of that mudblood.”

He came in front of Yato once again, though this time it was closer – personal, even. A smug grin found its way on his face. “Fitting, don’t you think? To find out who you truly care about.”

The smile vanished a second later and his eyes narrowed into dark slits. “It seems you don’t care about your own family after all.”

“She’s not my family,” Yato strained. “None of them are.”

“By blood, no. But your professor believes that you could do so much greater than I even if your loyalty is divided.” He paused for a moment. “Though I find loyalty only tends to last as long as the pair are alive.”

The Sorcerer came closer and Yato recoiled into the hardness behind him.

“But you see, Yaboku, I’ve been watching you. You never left my sight, not even when you abandoned your family. I’ve watched you grow and fight, and I’ve seen you fall in love. I’ve learnt what you fear the most, and that is that you can’t protect your friends.”

This time a hand came up to caress Yato’s cheek, and Yato flinched away from it. The fingers were slightly calloused, as if this person hadn’t ever made his hands dirty unless absolutely necessary. They rubbed light circles on his cheeks before brushing a strand of hair from the bridge of his nose.

His voice was gentle; sincere, like a father comforting a fearful child.

“Fear not, Yaboku. You won’t have to worry about the orphan anymore.”

The words were like a bucket of ice-cold water being dumped on Yato’s head, numbing him. His mouth felt heavy and dry as dirt. Panic stirred in his chest.

“Where’s Yukine?!”

His Adam’s apple bobbed hard against the cold iron as he tried to fight down the nauseating image of what sickening things might’ve happened to Yukine.

“Naturally I couldn’t let him go, nor even live.” The Sorcerer’s words were lazy, as if discussing much more trivial matters. “But murder is such a tiring business when you’ve been in it for as long as I have.”

“Where the _fuck_ is Yukine?!” Yato practically screamed.

“I prefer new methods. Methods that torment the mind and rip the soul until death is nothing but a fairytale ending.”

The Sorcerer circled around, enjoying his limelight – and the reaction he had finally dragged from Yato. Still, he wanted to draw it out until anguish consumed what fleeting hope Yato clung to for his friend.

“He wrote in my diary, you know. All of the deepest darkest secrets and fears he could have never told you or the mudblood. And my, the secrets were riveting, but the key lies within the fears.”

Yato’s eyes widened, breathing heavier as he realised what he had seen, what he knew.

“Have you worked it out Yaboku? I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, and it’s driving him insane right now.”

_He didn’t…_

“If you locked someone in a chest, they would fear the confined space, oh, but not your little friend.”

His face cracked into a sickening grin as he leaned in closer to Yato, voice low but loud enough to stab pure fear into Yato’s heart at the following words.

“He’s terrified of the dark, and being locked in that chest, suffocating, I doubt he’s going to last very long.”

Images flashed through Yato’s head as he remembered when he’d found Yukine in the Chamber of Secrets. When he’d first found out about Yukine’s fear. His cut, clammy hands and tear-stained cheeks as he fumbled lost in the dark for god knows how long, until panic overwhelmed him and left him crumpled in the sewer, engulfed in his own hell.

Yato’s broken voice hollered curses and swears as he struggled, crushing himself between the statue as he tried to slip through the narrow gap.

In his mind he pictured Yukine curled up, fingernails torn and bloody from scratching blindly and frantically at the sides of his tomb as he screamed for help through bated breaths. Eventually those scratches would sound like nothing more than a dead branch against a window pane until they stopped completely.

“The half-blood is already dead. You’re already a failure to those you promised to protect.”

Any fight Yato had left in him dissipated. A hot lump in his throat choked him to the point that he couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, don’t worry, you won’t have to deal with him. He’ll be gone before you get back – body and soul. You’ll have that mudblood for a while. Play with her, fall in love if that helps to ease your loss, but she will perish too.”

The Sorcerer grinned, face millimetres from Yato’s. Yato tried to suppress his heaving chest as he stared right back into his captor’s eyes.

For the first time, he could see what exactly was reflected in a madman’s eyes: unbridled glee.

“Most murders are crimes of necessity rather than desire.” His voice dropped an octave, thick as tar and dangerous. “All of those filthy mudbloods in that school will be the first to go. You can try and save your pet, but you could never have the power to stand in my way.”

The Sorcerer pulled back abruptly, eyes filled with twisted joy at Yato’s defeated appearance. His head hung low as he listened to the meticulously macabre detail.

“Her death will involve magic – but not the kind that she so arrogantly uses as if she was born to use it. Dark magic, which will ensnare her soul and spread through her like a curse until she’s nearly overcome by my power, just leaving enough of her consciousness behind to realise what’s happened to her and to see you doing nothing as it slowly kills her.”

Yato felt tears prick his eyes, throat burning with a lump he couldn’t swallow. He felt his chin being tilted up gently, the sharp point of an aged wand pinching his skin, dragging his eyes to be level with the Sorcerer.

“I wonder if killing her will unleash that power I locked away inside of you,” he murmured, more to himself than Yato. “We can put it to the test once you’re home. Like I said, your Father does miss you so.”

Yato heard the quiet scuffs of footsteps on grass and the shifting of robes and muted talk, the Sorcerer giving orders to his followers who silently watched them.

Yato let out a breath. So that was why he was here. Father was in liege with these people, trying to get him to go back to their side. Entering him into a contest where he could be spirited away and presumed dead; it wouldn’t be the first time that someone had gone missing – or died – in this tournament. Now it looked like both were going to happen on this night; a perfect kidnap with no trace of where he went or any witnesses.

He wouldn’t go. Not if he could stop whatever was going to happen to Hiyori. Not if there was the smallest chance that Yukine was alive somewhere.

Giving a cautious glance at the Sorcerer’s back, Yato took a deep breath. He reached down, allowing himself to slip until his windpipe was pressed against the scythe.

The loose fabric of his trousers gave way to his pocket, fingertips grazing the tip of his wand. With a final strain it was in his hand.

Then he was caught.

The first warning call barely passed their lips before Yato hurled a bolt of red light at the Death Eater, sending them flying backwards. Yato forced his wand against the statue, giving a silent order to release him as quickly as it had ensnared him.

Yato let out a gasp as the pressure instantly left his chest, feeling his ribs bloom with bruises when he clutched his side.

Flares of robes and drawn wands blurred in front of Yato in slow motion, as well as the Sorcerer spinning around in confused anger at Yato’s escape attempt.

Yato threw out defence spells, not hearing what the Sorcerer was shouting as the ringing of deadly curses and hexes met his barriers.

Yato sent a frantic glance around the graveyard as he was driven back, looking for something, anything, that could help him. His eyes fell on two things: his dimly shining escape route – the portkey – and Suzuha.

Yato threw himself sideways out of the way of a curse, narrowly missing the grave which acted as a shield that splintered and chipped under the heavy fire of reds and greens. Yato panted hard, wand clutched his hand so tightly his knuckles had turned white and he feared he would never be able to open his fist again.

This was his chance.

Scrambling behind headstones which shattered faster than he could move onto the next one, Yato shielded himself with any spell that he could muster as he broke cover.

In one, two, three bounds he was close enough to throw himself at Suzuha’s body and shout his final spell.

“ _Accio portkey!_ ”

 

~

 

The pair apparated in the stadium where they had started. The roar of the crowd was deafening as they cheered for their victor slumped on the ground but did not see the body he wept over. Clinging to Suzuha, Yato’s rasped voice called for help, unheard by none but the corpse before him.

The wrist where Yukine might’ve tied his good luck charm – if he hadn’t been taken – laid bare in the grass, a gut-wrenching reminder that with it, this might not have happened.

It felt like an eternity before a scream pierced the air and the band fell silent, the terrible – _terrible_ – and quiet realisation that something had gone wrong falling over the crowd.

Yato struggled weakly when hands gently pulled him off the ground and away from Suzuha, muffled murmurs about screening the body from the crowd not reaching his ears. His ragged breathing and raw throat and the all-consuming falling sensation in the pit of his stomach was what grounded Yato from falling apart completely.

He was vaguely aware of the damp sensation on his shirt. He didn’t have to look to know it was dark with blood where he had pulled Suzuha to him and caught the portkey before the graveyard spun away and they were returned to where they started.

Too many people surrounded him, their eyes boring into him and the blood-stained jersey. Their faces blurred together, but Yato knew none of them were Hiyori… or Yukine.

Yato snapped back at a firm gripped on his shoulders, Professor Tenjin’s face inches from his.

Yato didn’t hear what he was saying, the only desperate answer he could give to ‘What happened?’ was:

“He’s going… to kill… Yukine…!”

“Who?”

 _‘He’s here now! Your professor who put your name in the Goblet of Fire’._ Those were the Sorcerer’s words. He was…

_‘Professor’_

“Death Eater -.”

Yato barely croaked before he was being swept away by Professor Tenjin and Okuninushi, storming the castle and all but obliterating the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and its office.

The professor’s robes had changed from their usual red, white and green to black, resembling what the Death Eaters had worn. As well as this difference, his office was nearly bare accept for a suitcase next to the door.

It seemed Rabou was ready for them, poised for a duel now his secret was exposed.

Though he sent a curse at them – which was blocked by Professor Tenjin – his wand was snatched away by Professor Tsuyu the second he cast it. It seemed that she had managed to catch up amongst the chaos of the stadium.

Okuninushi – a powerful man twice Rabou’s size – was on him in seconds, pushing him down into the wooden chair behind the desk and his wand nearly impaling through his cheek.

Professor Tenjin came to the other side of the desk, eyes now burning with fire akin to a phoenix’s. “Where’s the boy?”

Rabou grinned against the wand point. His eyes glittered with madness, lips pulled tight over his teeth in a hyena-like grimace.

Okuninushi seemed to grow in size at his silence. If he had been towering over him before, now there was a faint purple aura leaking from his clothes and simmering like desert heat.

“Where. Is. He?”

Rabou didn’t seem phased by the change, almost as if he expected this side of the High Master to rear its head again. But it was enough for his eyes to betray him.

A chest, no bigger than the trunk at the foot of Yato’s bed, sat padlocked in the corner of the room. Yato’s blood ran cold at the realisation that he hadn’t noticed it, and even colder at what must be inside.

The room was silent as all eyes turned to it. Yato was the first to move.

"Open it!" he rasped, half to himself, half to the shocked onlookers. His shaking fingers clawed at the mechanism, desperately trying to find the catch to unlock it.

A rough hand on his shoulder forcibly pulled him back, holding him in place as he tried to lunge back at the chest. Professor Tenjin briskly stepped forward, wand drawn and poised. With a fluid motion of his wand, the bolts and locks of the chest began to clang and grate like nails on a blackboard.

To Yato's horror, the chest transformed, gradually revealing a smaller and smaller compartment until a coffin-sized chest remained.

He ripped himself free of the loosened grip on his arm, nearly falling head first into the chest. An extension charm greeted him, leaving Yato to stare into the dimness and make out the imprisoned figure.

Far below, Yukine lay curled up in a ball, fists screwed tightly into his hair as he fought to keep the darkness from claiming him as it did in the Chamber of Secrets.

The small amount of light that pierced the confines of the chest had reached Yukine's senses, telling him he was not alone anymore. His arms moved apart slightly, allowing him to squint at the two figures that blurred the brightness above him.

"Dad...?"

His whisper went unheard as Yato’s shouts muffled in his ears, consciousness fading into oblivion.

As before, in a cold and dark space, darkness defeated the light, and Yukine was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> https://78.media.tumblr.com/21471b263326173fa9707e494ceaf596/tumblr_inline_no6ktvqBxE1qgavd1_400.gif


End file.
